


Don't Mess With the Pie

by Solstarin



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 05:49:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13024572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solstarin/pseuds/Solstarin
Summary: You want pie. Peter wants a snowball fight. Who will win???





	Don't Mess With the Pie

**Author's Note:**

> Day 14!

Y/N loved having Peter around,  _really_. He was a wonderful person, and an even better boyfriend, but right now, she wanted to hit him over the head with her shovel. **  
**

The sixth snowball of the hour hit her square between the shoulderblades, breaking on her thick winter coat with a soft _piff_. She heaved another shovelful of snow off her grandmother’s driveway, ignoring the boy chucking the snowballs at her.

“Y/N.”

She didn’t respond and dug back into the snow again.

“Y/N.” Another snowball hit her arm. She readjusted her cap and swiped at her nose.

“Y/N.”

She propped up her shovel and turned to her boyfriend, who was seated in the middle of the lawn, beneath the bare oak tree. “I’m not going to play with you yet, Peter. Gramma said if we want pie we have to shovel the driveway. Do you want pie?“

His smile was brighter than the patches of sunlight on the snow around him. “I  _want_  you to play with me. Look, I’ve made a whole game’s worth of ammunition.” Indeed, around him sat several little piles of snowballs, ready for lobbing at each other. Y/N fixed Peter with a look.

“Peter Parker. You know how I feel about my Gramma’s blackberry pie.”

He pouted like a child, and she almost caved to his sparkling puppydog eyes. But just then, her grandmother opened the kitchen window and called out, “How’s it, Y/N? The pie’s about done!”

“It’s going, Gramma! We’ll be done in no time!”

Y/N could have sworn she heard the old woman chuckle as she shut the window, and swiveled her head back to her boyfriend, who had picked up another snowball.

“If you throw that at me, you will get nothing, and I will lock you out of the house.”

He considered the validity of her threat for a couple seconds, watching her, but ultimately held onto the snowball. Y/N kept her eyes on him for a moment longer before turning back to the driveway with her shovel. For a minute or two, she had peace and on her last scoop, she heaved a heavy sigh. Just this one shovelful and she would get to go inside, peel off her cold, damp gloves and socks, and sit in front of the fire with her boyfriend and her grandmother with a hearty slice of juicy, golden-y pie.

A burst of cold on her neck gave her pause. She stopped mid-shovel and straightened her back, turning slowly back to Peter for effect. He was sitting in the same spot, the only change to his environment being the makeshift barricade he had begun to construct before him, and the shit-eating grin on his face.

Before he could react, Y/N retaliated. She swung the full shovel like a catapult, hitting the boy square in the face. He froze, blinking clumps of snowflakes from his lashes. While he was distracted, Y/N dropped the shovel and booked it to the front door, trying to kick off snow from her boots on the concrete before she reached the house. She slammed the front door shut and locked it behind her before he could even stand, and then bolted to the back doors, winter clothes still on, and locked them as well. Gramma shouted at her to take her boots off as Y/N laughed, and Peter tried to get the front door open. The effort was futile and Y/N descended into cackles as she made sure every door and window on the first floor was shut tight. Her grandmother always kept her second-floor windows locked, as Y/N’s elder brother had three children, and all the windows were low enough to open, if a pair of little hands got on them. There was no way Peter could get in without her opening a door for him.

Y/N almost felt bad as she unlaced her boots and left them in front of the fireplace.

“Why is that young man banging on my front door?” Gramma asked, handing Y/N a towel. “And please mop up your wet footprints, angel.”

“I warned him, Gramma,” Y/N explained as she dragged the rag over the floor with a now bare, slightly chilly foot. “He didn’t listen. I’ll let him in in a minute. Is the pie ready?”

“It’s cooling on the counter.” Gramma directed her to the pie, and didn’t question her any further, returning to her knitting with a twinkle in her eye.

Peter stopped knocking as Y/N retrieved her slice of pie, and propped open the kitchen window to see her boyfriend leaning on the front door, looking dejected.

“I told you what would happen, Parker,” she taunted, poking her head out and taking a bite. He glared at her. “I’ll finish my pie and then let you in, hm? Unless you can convince me to let you in now.”

Peter pulled his weight off the front door and came to stand under the window. Y/N pulled her pie back inside. “Don’t think you can swipe this,” she warned.

“That wasn’t what I wanted to steal,” he responded, and got a grip on the scarf she hadn’t taken off yet. Using it for gentle leverage, he pulled her down to kiss him. Her plate of pie teetered in her other hand, and she set it down on the counter as she lost herself in the gesture.

He left her breathless for a moment before she regained her senses and his smile came back into focus.

“That’s pretty convincing.”

With someone as sweet as Peter, who needed pie?

 


End file.
